Anna's Secret

nearby.
“Steven,” he bent closer. “We’re going to keep you as comfortable as possible.”
Steven’s eyes flickered open as Matt squeezed his hand and smoothed his brow.
Matt straightened and motioned Anna over to the far corner of the room. Every year he practiced medicine he assumed it would get easier, but at thirty-five he was granted no more wisdom, or strength, than the year previously.
He spoke the words that were always difficult to say to family members but especially hard to say to Anna, who had become a dear friend. “It won’t be long now.”
Anna collapsed against him. He steadied her and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. When she looked up at him, her dark eyes brimmed with tears and a lump formed in his throat. He had to get away. The pit of his stomach tightened. He hurt because she hurt.
“You should phone your family.”
“Yes. I will.”
He held her a moment longer before signaling the nurse with a tilt of his head. She gently guided Anna to the nearest chair.
Anna had no idea what that simple condolence cost him as he battled a squall of emotion he knew he had no right to feel. He was free, but she certainly wasn’t and wouldn’t be for a long time to come. He was no fool. Grief needed time.
“Would you like me to phone your sister?”
Her large, soulful eyes shot upward. Anna’s voice broke. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Please ask her to call the boys and the rest of the family.”
“No problem, Anna. I’ll handle it.”
Matt’s offer did not fall into his regular doctor/patient responsibilities, but Steven’s illness had been a long, rocky road, and Matt had become a fixture in their family. Through it all, Anna had rarely complained. She had a beauty inside and out that intrigued him. The way she loved her husband unconditionally, despite his difficult tirades, showed a quiet strength that drew him.
He turned to leave.
“Matthew …”
His heart kicked against the walls of his chest. Was she aware she’d used his first name? Hearing his name touched something deep within him. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward her.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
She smiled, and he read only innocence in her expression. Clearly, she had no idea the emotions she evoked in him.
Is it only friendship you desire?
A dart of guilt pierced him. He left the room before giving her the chance to read any emotion on his face.

From the sanctuary of her bedroom, with her sister in charge of the growing crowd, Anna whispered a prayer for strength. “Oh, Lord, help me get through this.” Even at her best, entering a room full of people was difficult. With one more glance in the mirror to make sure her riotous curls were snuggly fastened in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, she smoothed her hands over her skirt. The dull gray suited her mood. She opened the door, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall.
Her living room and kitchen teemed with all the people she knew and loved. One would think the funeral was hers, not Steven’s. In the last few years, his reclusive ways and severe illness had thinned out his friends—all but a persistent few. She gazed over the group as they made eye contact. Support and pity jockeyed for position.
Small groups of people huddled in circles with plates of delicate finger sandwiches, fruit, and sweets piled high. Her stomach lurched at the thought of food, and she fought the urge to run for the bathroom.
Betty and George, Steven’s parents, signaled her over to their corner of the room. Anna scanned the area to check if her sons, Mark and Jason, were okay before she joined them.
Only Betty could pull off a black pantsuit with such flare. She had obviously had a say in what George was wearing, because not a stitch was out of place, right down to the folded triangle handkerchief in his breast pocket. His new designer suit carefully hid his portly frame.
“Oh, Anna.” Betty engulfed her in a warm hug. Her arms gave a tight squeeze before she pulled back and cradled Anna’s face in her hands. Her bracelets jangled close to Anna’s ear. “I’m sure you know this, but sometimes words need to be spoken. You’re our daughter, with or without our son in the picture, and we love you.”
Anna drew a weak smile. “I don’t know how I would’ve done it without your love and support all these years.”
“And nothing will change,” George pitched in. “Until you find a job and get financially stable, we’re going to continue to help out with the expenses.”
Anna’s gaze lowered and she shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, but I need to work this out somehow.” She could tell from the pity in their eyes they had the same question she did. Where would a thirty-nine-year old widow who’d never been more than a housewife and mother find work that paid enough to survive?
“We’re here for you,” Betty insisted. “Do you remember the promise we made before you and Steven were engaged?”
Anna nodded. “—to fill the gap for the parents I lost.”
“Yes. And George and I are not relinquishing that claim now.”
Anna’s eyes glistened with tears as she hugged them close. “I love you both so much.”
“How are Mark and Jason? We were so glad they made it home from University in time to say goodbye to their father.”
Anna gulped back a sob with a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, my dear, your grief must be unbearable,” Betty said, as she pulled her into another hug.
A sliver of guilt jabbed in. Anna cried for her boys and the loss of their dad, but her relationship with Steven had been an emotional roller coaster for years. Why was relief at being off that ride a stronger pull than grief?
Pastor Harry and his wife, Eleanor, dressed appropriately in traditional black, stood on the periphery—waiting. Anna